Look Beyond The Veil
by Djablesse
Summary: A look at Mia Campbell from not just the hyperactive fangirl persona that too many people seem to have of her. For those of you who want to see another dimension to her character, try "looking beyond the veil."


**Author's Notes: A little fic I wrote that adds a few dimensions to Mia's character than the hyper-obsessed imitation too many people consider her to be. Have fun reading!**

Mia Campbell liked the world best when it seemed as though there was no one else in it.

Then, and only then, was she free to be herself, and allowed to shed the image of her idol.

She stared into the seat directly across from hers, the one that had been recently vacated by Athrun. He had been called away from their early dinner by an urgent call from the Chairman, and ten minutes later, he had yet to return. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied a waiter hovering by the open door, obviously awaiting a command or request. She tilted her head to the side and shook it at him, and he bowed respectfully and left, closing the door behind him.

She had selected this restaurant because of its so-called "private dining," where a couple could while the night away with sumptuous food and soothing music. Yet it seemed as though wherever she went, she could do nothing to escape the image she had so willingly assumed to be her own.

Ordinarily, having to work overtime wouldn't have bothered her. Up until recently, she had been all too happy to uphold the persona whenever she could. But as the days went by, and her impersonation became less of a habit and more of a need, she had tried to dispose of it whenever no one was around, just to prove to herself that there was more to her her life than just a mockery.

And every time she attempted that trick, it failed. Failed miserably. Until she wondered why she even _bothered_ fighting it...

She sighed and lowered her head. If another waiter should enter, that alone should be enough to signify to them that she was in great need of being by herself.

The reasoning as to why her attempts at originality failed so miserably had always escaped her. She had tried not to let it be a bother, had tried not to let it affect her. But tonight, for some reason, it was all she could do to stop the thoughts from pounding in her head, somersaulting one another in order to communicate to her brain first.

No matter how she'd tried, she hadn't been able not to let it affect her. She hadn't been able to let it simply slide off her, the way she imagined the real Lacus would have done. But idly, she realized, she shouldn't be surprised. She was, after all, not the real Lacus. She was nowhere close to being like her. She lacked serenity and grace, poise and dignity, the very same traits that Lacus was most famous for. She recognized that, and every day she worked harder to remedy her faults.

She knew she was nothing but a cheap imitation to them. She knew she was nothing more than a pawn in their eyes. Especially in his. In Athrun's eyes, the man she adored more than any other. He was the only one who showed some sign of caring about her, the only one who seemed to realize that there was more to her personality than just "Lacus."

In times like these, when she felt alone, it was as if he was the only person in the world for her. For a brief, joyous moment, Mia fantasized that she could go to him with all her worries. He would listen attentively as she spilled out her darkest ruminations, and then when she was done, pull her into his arms for some much-needed comfort.

But those visions were instantly squashed by images of him shaking his head, looking down at her with disappointment. He was Athrun Zala, war hero. He certainly couldn't have attained that honourable status by shirking his responsibilities. Wouldn't he appreciate someone who had the same reliability as he did? Consequently, wouldn't he condemn someone who didn't?

But still it was hard, hard to carry on as though nothing had changed, as if _she_ wasn't changing. Couldn't anyone see beyond the bouncy personality, beyond the wide smile? Or was it just that no one wanted to? Didn't anyone realize that as each day passed, her identity danced further and further away from her fingers? Or that with each concert, with each song, she felt like even more or a traitor?

Didn't anyone care that the lines between Mia and Lacus were slowly converging into one, until she couldn't differentiate between them?

...it was all just sometimes too much for her to bear. Didn't anyone, _anyone_, have any idea of who she really was?

Brushing a lone tear off her cheek, she looked up to see Athrun walking towards their table, his cell phone nestled comfortably in his pocket. Apparently his "rendezvous" with Gilbert had finally come to a close. As he settled himself in his chair, she desperately tried to pull herself together, and his words startled her.

"Uh, you haven't eaten anything as yet. Aren't you hungry?" His observation only seemed to heighten her feeling of detachment. Limply, she could only shake her head.

He smiled. "Well, really, neither was I. Let's head back to the hotel then, Mia. The Chairman is waiting for us."

It was the way how he said it, the way how the word so easily slipped off his tongue. She blinked, hardly daring to believe her ears. After her melancholy thoughts of the last few minutes, his words were like a melody. Dropping all pretenses of Lacus, she stared at him softly.

"You called me Mia.

And not Lacus."

Athrun gazed at her puzzedly. "Of course I did," he explained to her. "Isn't that you name?"

She smiled then, a soft, warm smile that offered no hints of a certain pop star, no hints of anyone but who she was trying currently to be. Mia.

"Yes, it is," she replied. "Thank you for remembering."


End file.
